Yellow - In the Begining
by Cpt. Kallan Beyda
Summary: A friend commented on how cold Commander Simpson seems in my universes. This is his story. It explains the pressures he'd under, both internally and externally. This story fits into the Yellow universe but the ideals can be transported easily to AY.
1. Hidden Heritage

'Gregory,' Wayne Simpson placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, 'you knew this would never be easy.'

'I just didn't think,' Greg shook his head with disalusionment, 'it would be this hard either. I entered the International Rescue Organisation to help people.'

'You have,' Wayne consoled. 'You're forty one with a career spanning twenty years. You've moved around the various departments within the IRO, mastered every position you've gained and have a reputation as a fair but disciplined leader.'

'I've achieve nothing,' Greg turned on his younger brother. 'You're ten years younger, married, expecting your first child soon. What do I have but a head full of dreams I can't get anyone to listen too?'

'What happened to Sam?' Wayne questioned with a concerned expression.

In his heart he knew. It had always been the same for Greg where the men in his life were concerned. They took second place to his dream, a dream that had once again been rejected by the World Council, more narrowly than the last time. Greg's ideas had been formed at the knee of their aging grandfather. Suffering early dementia and living incognito with his only daughter, by the time a grandchild had been born, he'd told stories of the glory days. The man passed away before Wayne arrived.

'He took a posting in Japan,' Greg frowned. 'It's taken a lot for me to come to terms with my sexuality, Wayne. I'm still not ready to completely leave the closet.'

'I don't think you ever will be,' answered the younger man with sad grimace. 'Your first love has always been continuing Grandfathers legacy.'

'How can I not,' challenged the new Commander. 'With the changes in technology, people moving into space habitats, living on the ocean floor and other formerly uninhabitable places, a new breed of vehicles is needed for emergency situations. Why can't people see the future? It's not here on Earth. It's out there,' he pointed to the sky, 'or under the oceans.'

'The problem with you, Greg,' Wayne smiled humourlessly, not at his older brother's ideals but the situation in which he found himself, 'you're too much like our Grandfather.'

Sighing heavily, Greg agreed, 'I know. If only Jeff Tracey were still here, I might be able to talk about my ideas. All of our uncles gave their life to the service of humanity. Not one of them married or produced a legitimate grandchild.'

'You and I,' Wayne's expression saddened, 'are the only living remainder of a great family the world has practically forgotten.'

'Jeff Tracey's only legacy remains a greatly expanded IRO,' Greg agreed, 'at least humanity gave our Grandfather that epitaph.'

'I don't think they had a choice,' Wayne disagreed. 'The world needed the hope International Rescue provided. The Thunderbird Machines grew old, just as our uncles did. They'd had their time and slowly declined into obscurity. Grandfather didn't play the political game, that's why he kept Tracey Island's location a secret. His efforts died with him and his sons because he wouldn't let anyone in, anyone help or expand to include others. The newly created World Council had the funding to take over the role but didn't want the responsibility. International Rescue became a watered down version of Jeff Tracey's ideal when they created the organisation you work for.'

'Did you know,' Greg rubbed his chin thoughtfully, 'I still have the original blue prints for the Thunderbird vehicles. It wouldn't take much to redesign them with today's cutting edge technology, incorporating new equipment and expertise. I want to create a special rescue squad, an élite team based on the formula our grandfather perfected.'

'With you as team leader,' that brought a delighted smile to Wayne's face.

'I'd like that, but the person chosen to lead the squad,' Greg turned serious, 'needs to be politically savvy. They need to play the game and negotiate a mind field of bureaucratic red tape. Jeff Tracey self-funded the Thunderbirds and trained operatives to keep complete control. It can't be done if the world is to become truly interdependent.'

'It's a huge responsibility,' Wayne watched his brother's reaction. Greg's glare stated he knew the personal and professional cost and would willing accept it.

'It requires someone to walk a tight rope between funding, politics and administration,' Greg let out a heavy sigh. He thought about the role of Commander, heading up this elite squad for years. He wanted the position, understanding the enormous cost. 'The members of the team would have to conform to some pretty tight discipline, both in their work and home life. They would be following in the footsteps of the original Thunderbird team, in machines based on the design and technology of Jeff Tracey. The media interest alone would be intrusive.'

'Have you told Grandmother?' Wayne asked. 'I'd like to know her thoughts on your plans.'

'Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward,' Greg responded with a frown, 'is completely opposed to the idea. We both know she only acknowledges the relationship with Jeff Tracey to the family and refuses to allow his memory to be desecrated. As far as the world is concerned, no one knows Mother is the only living relative such a great man.'

'Or,' Wayne, the much softer natured of the two smiled, 'that Lady Penelope had an illegitimate daughter. How she managed to hide the pregnancy is beyond me. My wife is complaining about her size and we still have three months to go. I'm just thankful mother married a man with a nice simple name and bank account to match, much to Grandmother's displeasure. It divorces us from the family politics.'

'It divorced you from the family politics,' Greg stated. 'Your birth occurred after Grandfather's death. I still remember Lady Penelope visiting as a child. Jeff Tracey's eyes would light up. Of course, all five of his son's had passed away by then and she proved the only link to his past.'

'Poor Grandfather,' Wayne offered, 'I can't imagine what it would be like, to lose both your wife and children years before your own death. I think the relationship with Grandmother and her pregnancy might have been a protective factor.'

Giving his brother first a curious, then a sad smile, Greg answered, 'it's not something I'm ever going to have to worry about.'

'It might be,' Wayne offered with a sly smile. 'If you start this team, choose young people like yourself, Gregory. That way you might think of them like your own children. You're a tough, disciplined, but fair man. Underneath that sometimes threatening exterior there's a reason for everything you do. I'm sure the team will come to understand that, just as they'll come to understand you, eventually.'

'Any other words of wisdom,' Greg allowed his voice to carry a note of distain.

'Include at least one woman in this elite squad,' Wayne couldn't help chuckle at his brothers' expression. 'Just make sure she doesn't fall in love with a man on the team. That could spell disaster.'

'The love part,' Greg humoured his sibling, 'I can cope with. It's the political ramification and destabilising effect on funding that would be a major problem. Not to mention leaving after the specialist training to have a family. Replacing a single person, even temporarily might destroy the level of trust within a tight team. If I manage to get this party started, I want a group of pilots with at least ten years longevity, so they might prove themselves before expanding the squad.'

Shaking his head, Wayne Simpson knew his brother would one day follow in the footsteps of their grandfather, Jeff Tracey. He bet the man would be knee deep in designing the Thunderbird vehicles within ten years. Eventually the World Council would see the need for such a highly trained and equipped squad. A few years after that, Greg Simpson would command the new Thunderbird team, if Wayne didn't miss his guess.


	2. Let's Get the Party Started

'What you are saying,' Helios Del Mare spoke in heavily accented standard coloured with astonishment, 'you want to rebuild Jeff Tracey's Thunderbird craft?'

He'd followed the passions of Commander Gregory Simpson closely. The man came to his attention seven years ago, when he'd first proposed an élite rescue squad to the world council. Believing the bureaucrats to be short sighted the machines and craft that might be needed fuelled Helios's interest. Engineer Del Mare began planning a technical site capable of building the vehicles within two years of hearing the rumours. He'd never considered anything on this scale, as his deep brown eyes displayed.

'Essentially,' Greg nodded pointing to the old fashioned paper blue prints scattered on the table before them, 'yes.' As yet, Helios hadn't taken one of the heirlooms from its protective tube, still stunned at the audacity of the man standing before him. 'With,' Greg offered, 'modifications to bring the vehicles into the twenty first century and cope with our changing technology and living environments.'

'The Federation has given you permission for this undertaking?' Once again the dazed man ignored the blue prints in favour of watching his long time colleague's expressions. Well aware Greg recently increased his agitation for this team, Helios watched and waited, understanding Commander Simpson would have to consult his expertise to carry out such a massive undertaking. 'It is a major project which will tie up C-cores resources for the better part of five years if, and that is a big if, you manage to get funding on the scale you're considering.'

'After the recent disaster in New Zealand,' Greg reported, turning away, one arm crossed over his chest, the other holding his chin, 'and the countless loss of life and property with the sudden and unexpected eruption of Mt Eden, a member of the board recalled my previous petitions. Either I go ahead now with the plan in its entirety or the general support will evaporate.'

'Will this reaction last,' Helios shook his head, knowing how short the public's attention could be, 'until the funding and politics can be arranged? It could take months if not years to get a project this large off the ground.'

'I have six days to remodel Jeff Tracey's Thunderbird machines and present an updated version to a select group of the World Council,' Greg turned his steely gaze on the man, letting him know the pressure he felt at the extremely short time span. 'I am to give an economic estimate for the cost of building, maintaining and operating this rescue service based on what we come up with. Before I can begin to write my proposal, I need you to design the craft.'

'I am honoured you came to me,' Helios smiled, mischief in the back of his chocolate brown eyes. With the intensity of a man on a mission, Greg missed the humour buried deep in the engineer's expression.

'This first step,' the Commander stated, his tone implying determination, 'must be achieved before the horror in New Zealand is forgotten. After I have a conditional go ahead to begin construction, there will be the political and administrative strategic plans to worry about. That, Helios, comes later. Without funding, the Thunderbird craft will never get off the ground.'

'No easy task,' Helios commented with a grunt, considering the logistics. A hand going to his chin, he's gaze once again travelled to his companion. 'Tell me, where did you get original plans? Jeff Tracey and his sons died many years ago, or so it is believed.'

'Let's just call it fate,' Greg glared. Realising Helios wouldn't help until he received some kind of answer, the broad shouldered man sighed warily. 'Jeff Tracey disappeared from the public eye after his son's died. His dreams faded but the plans didn't.'

'He passed the legacy onto another generation,' Helios spoke softly, respectfully, understanding the implicit truths behind the stoic man's resolve. 'It is both a great responsibility and burden.'

Watching the man before him, Commander Greg Simpson's subtle reactions gave the Engineer the answers he sort. Shaking his head, Helios came to realise they were more alike than either cared to admit. Moving quickly, he indicated Greg should stand and scoop the protective containers into his arms. A fire burnt deep in Helios's brown eyes. To be given the unique chance to look upon the technology of Jeff Tracey, unseen for fifty years took the engineer back to his earliest childhood. Involvement in remodelling the machines, Lead Engineer Del Mare couldn't have asked for a better project nor a better man to head up the venture.

'Come, let me take a look at these blueprints,' Helios opened the door. He had a theory Commander Simpson shared more with him than a passion for this team. The time would come when he'd be able to test his notion. 'Not here. We will be more comfortable in my home office. I have a newly developed drawing table. I think these,' indicating the tubes, 'will be the perfect test.'

Leading the way from the public meeting rooms to the officers' private quarters, C-core's Lead Engineer easily negotiated a path through a maze of tunnels. Following, Greg's grey eyes took in every aspect of the newly created research and design centre. He wanted to incorporate some of this equipment into the Thunderbird team's base of operations. Cataloguing the features, he added them to the mental list he kept. The extensive requirements increased the final finance quote meaning he wouldn't get everything he wanted.

'This,' Helios waved an arm above a squat looking table dominating the middle of his private study, 'is my new toy. I created it in my spare time.'

Pointing to one of the scrolls under Greg's arm, Helios muttered, 'open it please.' Placing the blue print on the table, suddenly a three dimensional image of Thunderbird 1 appeared in the air.

'I designed this work station,' Helios informed Greg proudly, 'to turn two dimensional plans into three, including all the technical specifics.' Pointing to the engine room, the engineer stated, 'this model is a 1:1000 replica of the original drawing, taking into account all the small details you might miss on paper or a computer screen. See,' slicing his hand through the image, it cut neatly in two, 'now you see the internal working of the vehicle. It is the engine room that will need the biggest overhaul. This ramjet, it is old fashioned, although the idea is sound. If we add a flux drive capacitor,' as he spoke the computer changed the image to include his improvements, 'here, change this propulsion system to hot ion flow with a rate limiting step and recalibrate the fuel intake system to cope with Cololite. Yes, as I thought, an improvement of 120% without considering some of the new technology we are developing here at C-core.'

'What do you think of the rocket design?' Greg asked, astounded at the speed of Helios's hand and ideas. Personally, he thought this machine needed work to modernise it. In the current form, it wouldn't be as manoeuvrable as he'd like or suitable for the kind of rescue situations he had in mind.

'Tell me your thoughts,' Helios turned, scrutinising the young Commander. At least five years his junior, Greg had that look of someone married to his work. He'd spent long, lonely nights thinking about this project in the hope it would one day come to fruition. 'It is obvious you have some very specific ideas on the vehicles and what they should be able to do. I will need to take this into account when considering the body shape and engine capacity.'

'I see the new Thunderbird 1 as an advanced space shuttle,' closing his eyes, Greg's mind went over his long term objectives and long held dreams. 'It needs to be fast, should be able to carry several smaller vehicles as well as an array of weapons, such as ice and foam bombs for use in extreme environments. It will need lasers for cutting, mechanical arms for grappling, just to name a few improvements. I see TB1's primary role as recognisance. It will determine the extent of the disaster and provide an initial response.'

'I want it to link with Thunderbird 2, increasing propulsion, range and make it an interplanetary craft. Moon Base Omega is under construction as well as the upgrade to the orbiting space station. The linked craft must be able to dock at the space station and any other space habitats we build in the next fifty years. Between Thunderbirds 1 and 2, they should be able house the entire array of specialised machines without having to change pods, return to base or refuel for several days. Besides this, the main cabin should be able to house all five pilots for longer term assignments, while the other vehicles are to have room for a pilot and co-pilot.'

'Very wasteful,' Helios agreed, 'having to change cargo pods or return to base. I do not know why Jeff Tracey designed such an awkward craft. Thunderbird 2 needs much work to incorporate your changes. We will fix this.'

'I like the idea of a smaller rocket ship,' Greg decided, 'but think a ground vehicle would be more suitable to design initially. If that could fit into the combined machine, the team would have everything they needed at the site of the disaster. Of course we would retain a submarine for aquatic missions to be used as an adjunct to the main team.'

'For now,' Helios opened each tube, taking out the three Thunderbird machines he would use as a basis for the new generation, 'we will present only the main four at the council meeting. Thunderbirds 1, 2 and 3 to combine and the submarine, I will need every moment of the five days you have given me.'

'Six,' Greg corrected.

'I will come to Acrology the day before,' Helios tested the water and his theory about Greg's sexual preference, hoping he'd read the situation correctly. 'We will discuss the plans then. Now we work for there is more to do than even you have envisaged I think?'

Unsure if he'd seen the spark of attraction in the engineer's glance, Greg sighed. He'd always questioned his motivation and response to other men, second guessing his intuition. Helios appealed to him and Greg would take up the offer if the older man made it. He'd never been the type to initiate an intimate connection, always waiting, ensuring he'd read the appeal correctly.

Six hours later, the young Commander watched the four craft each take a turn on the three dimensional holographic display. Happy with the designs, they weren't as sleek and sophisticated as he'd have liked. On the other hand, Helios reminded this team would be about practicality and saving lives. The stubby and needle like designs were aerodynamic and sturdy.

'Happy?' Helios asked, the question loaded with innuendo.

Giving the engineer a puzzled look, Greg offered, 'why wouldn't I be. You've managed a minor miracle. I hadn't expected to get this far. I'll be able to start on the financial estimates earlier than I'd thought.'

Nodding, Helios added, 'I have a very good idea of the construction and maintenance costs. But this is for latter.' Patting his stomach, which had been growing for more than an hour, he pushed Greg. 'For now take a moment to commemorate the Thunderbird craft with a drink. Then,' watching from under long lashes, Helios put his feelings on the line, 'you and I go out to dinner and celebrate our achievement.'

Turning his attention to the man, Greg wondered if this were a general invitation. The expression he'd seen before offered something more, intimate. 'I need to be back at Acrology in the morning,' Commander Simpson stated, an edge to his tone.

'Then you stay here tonight, Greg,' Helios asked, his tone disarming but expecting an answer. He touched the other man on the arm. If he'd miss read the situation, the Engineer would soon know. 'We can continue to work on the plans before you go.'

Nodding, Greg had to ask, 'pillow talk, Helios.'

'I think we would both enjoy that,' he offered easily, with a delighted smile. 'Great men often have great passions. Unfortunately, for you and I, our personal passions have always taken a back seat to our public goals. I am married to this place, Greg. For me, C-core is like your Thunderbirds. It takes most of my time and attention.'

'Perhaps,' Greg eyed the man, considering his offer carefully, 'this is all either of us is capable of.'

'I know this,' Helios indicated he meant any relationship between them, 'is all I am capable of. A night here or there, a weekend if I'm lucky enough but always devoted to C-core. Can you accept that?'

Allowing a slightly despondent smile to lift the corners of his mouth, Greg agreed. 'I understand. Perhaps it is why I have failed before.'

'Look to the future, Greg, not the past. Come,' Helios managed to cover his lips with a grin that didn't continue to his eyes. He'd moved into the living room of his quarters, poured a drink and indicated the Commander should sit beside him. Handing one to Greg, he held it up. 'Solute. Now is time to toast all the work we have achieved this afternoon. Tell me about this team you are putting together?'

'I have been looking at candidates within the IRO,' Greg stated. The liquid burnt as it descended into his stomach. It felt good to have a confident, someone to talk to about his dreams. 'So far I have narrowed the list to ten possible contenders.'

'Why only within the IRO?' Helios suddenly saw his job as devil's advocate as much as conspirator on this project.

'The officers have the necessary training and discipline,' Greg explained. 'Most have flight experience. They lack only the training specific to this team.'

'Then you sell yourself short,' Helios remarked. 'The type of individual you need is a little reckless, young, willing to learn and will have at least one degree in an area of speciality. I suggest you look at a young orphan called Dylan Beyda. His father is, or rather was, Harrison Beyda, the space explorer. In spite of his parents early demise, Dylan is about to graduate from Yale with degrees in Astronomy and Quantum Mechanics. He's only just turned twenty two and passed flight school two years ago. He wanted to follow his father into space but crashed his jet. It affected his confidence. Someone like you, Greg, a father figure might be able to bring out his hidden talents.'

'How did you meet this young man?' Greg asked, once again astounded at the level of Helios understanding for this project.

'At a lecture I gave on Quantum Mechanics at Yale last year,' Helios couldn't stop the grin erupting on his face. 'He surprised me with an awkward question. We spoke for more than an hour. Dylan is a talented young man.'

'Any other suggestions?' Greg sounded gruff, an eyebrow rising at the sarcastic question.

'You're going to need an oceanography expert for TB4,' Helios commented.

'And you have just the person?' Once again Commander Simpson took on a curt tone.

'Ever heard of Elijah James?' Helios asked.

'English Oceanology expert,' Greg commented, a sardonic smile covering his lips. 'The man would have to be sixty. I'm hoping for someone slightly younger.'

'His daughter, Kallan, has just finished her university degree in Marine Biology and Engineering,' informed the older man. 'She entered university at the age of sixteen. If you pushed, she could make it to the next intake of the IRO's flight school. Even if you don't include her in your squad, the young woman would make a good IRO officer.'

'Helios,' Greg gave the man a genuine smile and much to his surprise, reached out a hand to place it over the engineers, 'anyone would think you've been considering this for years.'

'About five,' he returned the banter, quickly accepting the contact, 'once I understood the fundamentals of your proposal to the Federation Council. It's one of the reasons I've pushed so hard for this new C-core base. You could not construct the Thunderbird craft at any of the current C-core facilities.'

Placing his now empty glass on the coffee table, Greg shook his head. 'Time to eat, Helios, before you try to ply me with more alcohol and swell my head further. It is good to know I have had supporters working in the background to get this party started. There have been times I've despaired.'

'Is the alcohol working,' Helios asked. He'd come to terms with his sexuality many years ago. He'd admired the man standing before him for some time, for more than his professional abilities. Even if this didn't work out between them, he intended to enjoy the time they had.

'Maybe,' Greg couldn't help the genuine smile erupting on his face. 'I'll let you know in the morning.'


	3. Council Meeting

AN – I'm not sure how many are following this story. It isn't meant to be a story about homosexual relationships, just an explanation of what makes Commander Greg Simpson who he is and why he carries such a passion to see the Thunderbirds come into existence despite the intense political and financial pressure. In the background, I found his relationship with Helios needed exploring as it will form the basis for the almost cold demeanour with the rest of the team.

I'd like to think the "home" scenes are the antithesis of his "work" environment and it is this dichotomy which allows him to fight for the continuation of the Thunderbird project with such passion. Eventually the lines from Yellow when Grant states, "Commander Simpson's been giving me a hard time about your unofficial relationship." And from Dylan in Love Doll "The only reason you don't have an engagement ring is because Commander Simpson expressly forbad it." Will make sense as we explore just who Greg Simpson really is through his internal struggles to understand himself.

* * *

'Thank you for your submission, Commander Simpson, Lead Engineer Del Mare,' the Chairman stated. Looking to his left and right, grey eyes apprised his fellow members. 'Any questions?' he asked in a gravely tone, obviously not expecting anyone to react.

'Several,' Marta Krycosky allowed her brows to furrow. Levelling an unreadable stare at the two men, the corners of the woman's mouth lifted slightly in support. 'Why have you only designed four vehicles? Surely a rescue team would need other craft for situations we haven't had the time to discuss at this limited meeting.' Sending the Chairman a glare, she obviously didn't agree with the politics.

'I have here,' Helios grinned broadly, producing a data pad containing schematics of the other designs, 'electronic proto types for Thunderbird's five through seventeen. Given enough resources, these machines could easily be manufactured at the same time as the initial craft.'

'I believe,' Simpson broke in, understanding he wouldn't get what he wanted without explaining they'd considered current infrastructure, 'Thunderbird six is actually the current High Earth Orbit Space Station modified to accept a two kilometre sensor array and docking facilities for the other Thunderbirds.'

'Thunderbirds ten and seventeen are space craft, based on current designs with slightly modified propulsion systems,' Helios rubbed his chin while his hooded eyes assessed the councillors actively taking in the information. 'We are currently working on a new generation ion pulse engine at C-core for use in multiple air and space craft, servicing various branched of law enforcement. All other vehicles are within the scope of current technology.'

'So what you are saying, in effect,' Marta observed, 'these functionary machines can be manufactured quickly, cheaply and without too many changes from current designs when compared with the combined vehicle you presented earlier.'

'Indeed,' Commander Simpson stood just a little straighter in the hope he'd managed to gain another supporter for the venture.

'I see a very real need,' Yoshiro Matsumoto, currently heading up the project for Moon Base Omega spoke, 'for a quick acting team able to prevent issues at the moon site. It takes the best part of a day with a layover at the Orbital Station to get specialised personnel to and from Moon Base Omega with current transport arrangements. In a life and death situation, your team would be on station in what time frame?'

'About thirty minutes from receiving the initial call,' Greg offered. 'Much would depend on the specialist machinery needed to be loaded aboard the combined vehicle for the specific circumstances of the emergency.'

'Let me give you a situation.' Yashiro lent back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and stated, 'we have an out of control fire in the main dome.'

'Have the personnel been evacuated to the shelters?' Greg asked.

'In this case,' Yashiro replied, 'they have been ordered to do so at your request. How would this Thunderbird team react?'

'While the evacuation is in progress,' Greg found himself thinking on his feet, 'lasers with the capacity for use in an airless environment would be fitted to the existing array on TB1, a job taking trained technicians less than three minutes. After cutting a hole in the dome's fabric to empty the oxygen and ensuring the fire is out, the team would investigate how to reseal and re-establish environmental control. This would decrease the damage to property and hopefully ensure no loss of life.'

'Yes, that would work.' Yashiro commented with a decisive nod. 'The base Commander attempted something similar during a recent fire. After five hours the supply dome had to be abandoned. Rebuilding the structure has added substantially to the overall project cost. I believe,' Councillor Matsumoto kept a straight face while delivering the rebuke towards the chairman's seat, 'less than the cost of constructing one of your Thunderbird machines.'

'What about,' Jacques Flores paused, almost as though he didn't want to ask the question, 'the marine environment. Could a theoretical structure be saved rather than the facility abandoned if say, the protective dome shattered under the pressure of water. We are still experimenting with materials able to allow a view of the ocean floor for our base populations.'

Greg sighed internally, mentally recalling any information on the new ocean habitats under development. Capturing Helios's amused gaze, he could read the expression lighting the Engineer's eyes. Two down, six to go. They'd never convince the Chairman of the Council, he'd made his position clear during the briefing. Even now Evan Smith frowned as the questions continued. He'd expected this to be an open and shut case.

'Well,' Helios slung an arm around Greg's shoulders as they left the council chambers several hours later, 'I think it is time we had a drink.'

'It's not time to celebrate yet,' Commander Simpson stated, becoming stiff with the public display of affection.

'You did a magnificent job,' the engineer couldn't hold back his grin as he pulled away to an acceptable distance, 'selling your team in every way possible. Relax,' Helios demanded. He'd come to understand Greg better in the last week. In contact every night, sometimes talking for over an hour, it seemed natural for Helios to stay with Greg while visiting Acrology. 'Tonight, we celebrate the small victory. When we get the funding, we celebrate your triumph.'

'In not so sure we did enough in that meeting today, Helios,' Greg warned. 'Even with all the questions concerning the project, the Chairman can override any recommendation. Every day the Mt Eden eruption recedes from the general public's memory, the chance of obtaining funding for the Thunderbird machines decreases.'

'It is almost Christmas,' Helios reminded, a frown creeping across his face. 'Many of the countries around the world will soon be feasting over the holiday season. It is also the time,' he underlined his point, 'that accidents occur because people, companies and institutions become complacent. Let us hope a second incident takes place,' a scowl marred the engineer's usually pleasant features. He didn't like to think this project depended on unfortunate accidents to gain council support. 'An incident which might have been avoided or the damage diminished if the Thunderbird's became a reality.'

Nodding his understanding, Greg Simpson led the way back to his apartment. He didn't want to be out in public with his boyfriend feeling this level of anxiety. Beside he had a very good bottle of red wine at home, one he'd been waiting to share with someone special.

'I'd like you to meet my brother and his family,' Gregory surprised himself by announcing suddenly. 'They have a house on one of the Islands in the Bubaloo Group. We meet there every holiday. I'd be pleased if you accompanied me this year.'

'I will agree,' Helios understood this to be a departure for Greg. Not use to openly admitting his emotions, including another man in their family celebration spoke volumes about his hidden feelings. 'But only if you accompany me to my home next year.'

'You thinking a long way ahead,' the Commander remarked with a secret smile.

'How long,' Helios couldn't contain the amusement in his expression, 'have you been thinking about your Thunderbird team?'

'A long time,' Greg stated.

'And how long do you think,' demanded the older man, 'it will take to see your dream though to its conclusion?'

'At least another five years,' the Commander sighed, afraid he knew where Helios took his argument.

'Then let us hope,' the engineer chanced a sideways look at his lover, 'our working and personal relationship lasts at least that long.'

'Helios,' Greg waited until they reached the safety of his home before asking, 'how long have your past affairs lasted.'

'I have **_never_**,' he stressed the word, 'had affairs. I have been in love only once before you. Santos died seven years ago and I needed something to take my mind off my partner of twenty years.'

Trying to hide his astonishment and the feeling of joy welling up, Greg had to ask in a sardonic tone, 'so you chose me.'

'I think,' Helios, never one to stay melancholy for long, returned, 'you chose me. Had I not become interested in your Thunderbird project or followed your progress, I would not have developed feelings for you, Greg. I suspected your nature might be compatible with mine but waited until we met to be sure. I am glad you came to me for help.' Before the younger man could answer, Helios demonstrated his feelings by embracing his lover. Pulling away, he spoke softly. 'You, I think, have never experienced love.'

'Not,' Greg Simpson finally realised the truth of his words, 'until now. Let's skip the drinks, Helios and go to bed.'

'Have you ever,' Helios allowed one eyebrow to rise, 'made love outside your bedroom, Greg.' Levelling a challenging stare, the engineer couldn't help watching intently for the answer to cross Greg's face. 'I thought not. You are still not comfortable with yourself, with what you truly feel,' placing a hand over the younger man's heart, he cautioned, 'in here. You have not come to terms with your sexuality or sensual nature.'

Breaking away, Helios indicated Greg find them a drink. Waiting in the living room, he accepted the red wine when handed the glass in silence. Several sips later, Helios finally felt ready to talk about his past. A past he needed to clear up before their relationship could progress.

'We have travelled the same path in many respects,' Helios explained, careful to keep space between them on the couch. 'My family pushed me to find a girlfriend, get married and have a family once I graduated from university. Linda gave me eleven years, three sons and the appearance of a normal life before I met Santos. At first I tried to ignore my attraction. Linda understood something altered between us. She attempted to save our marriage by becoming what I needed. Nothing, not even the effort to modify our sex life worked. Unfortunately, she could not change her gender. Linda recognised the reason before I did. It explained more that I would have liked.'

'What happened,' Greg asked, enthralled and horrified by the tail. He'd never been interested in women and his family never pushed the issue. Yet they never openly accepted the gender of his partners either. Greg appreciated Helios's struggle, experiencing it with every affair he'd managed to fall into. Somehow they'd never felt right. Yet with the man sitting beside him, Greg Simpson felt able to set at least some of his preconceived ideas aside.

'Linda told me to go, to try a relationship with another man,' frowning, the engineer sounded confused. 'Of course I fell into Santos's arms and bed. He accepted the little I could give him at first. It all came to a head one night over holding hands in front of my wife and children. We had been together three years yet I still hadn't given up the old life.'

'By that,' Greg clarified, 'you mean Linda and your children?'

'Yes,' Helios managed a self-mocking smile. 'I still introduced Linda as my wife socially. That night Santos made me choose between the man I'd come to love by finally accepting my sexuality or continuing to live the lie permeating my head.'

'Not,' Greg found a hand reaching for his lover's shoulder in support, 'an enviable choice.'

Chuckling at that, Helios entwined their fingers. Bringing Greg's hand to his lips, he turned it over and kissed the palm gently. 'It turned out Pablo, my eldest son, solved my issues. Shaking his head at me,' the older man continued in an awed tone, 'he announced, "Papa, we all know and accept that you're gay so why can't you? Besides, so am I and I suspect Carlos will soon discover he likes to look at men, not woman.".'

'What has,' Greg rose from the couch suddenly, placing his wine glass on the table, 'this got to do with making love outside the bedroom.' Afraid he knew, the Commander became is icy best as his intelligent mind made the connections. Denial had always work wonders for him in the past. Now his current partner challenged the very core of his being and Gregory Simpson didn't like facing his deepest fears.

'Everything,' Helios watched under hooded eyes. In their previous encounters, the older man had been the more dominate partner. He intended to change that right now. 'I'm not waiting years for you to come to terms with us. Take off your clothes, Greg. Let me see you, all of you. Let me love and accept your insecurities, your vulnerabilities. Then take hold of them and show me that you're capable of doing the same for me.'

Intellectually Gregory Simpson understood. Culturally he quaked, afraid to expose himself. Professionally, he believed he'd be ruined by making such an admission. Yet, slowly, under great internal pressure and Helios's demanding chocolate eyes, he began to strip himself naked. It took several glasses of the wine and a quarter of an hour, but finally he achieved a milestone.

Shaking with anticipation, Helios beckoned Greg to the couch. Yet the older man did not touch him with more than his eyes. 'Make love to me, Greg,' the engineer requested, not making move.

Nodding, Greg Simpson agreed. He knew he'd never be completely comfortable with himself, his needs and desires on a personal level. Yet he'd managed to find that one person on the planet capable of surmounting his fears and allow him to let go within the walls of his home. Taking his time, Greg found himself in control of his sexuality for the first time in his life. It made him fell powerful and fulfilled in a way he'd never before experienced.

'Thank you,' he muttered to Helios, curled up on the couch beside his lover once the storm passed.

'It is I,' snorted the older man, 'who should be thanking you. I suspected you capable of such passion by the way you've continued to push for your Thunderbird team.'

'I'm not there yet,' Greg reminded.

'But,' Helios did try to stop the chuckle, 'with the passion you've shown me tonight, you will. When you come to C-core during the construction stage, you will live with me, Greg. I've changed my mind. I want more than a day here or there. I want all of you always.'

Swallowing hard, the Commander's heart understood what his brain refused to say. They still had a long way to go before either the funding came through or he'd be free enough of his shackles to give into Helios's plea. For now whispering 'I love you,' while sharing intimacy would have to be enough.


End file.
